“Chase?”
I drew back and let him find my voice. I had learned from his nightmares that my hands on him while he roused would be too disorienting.
He swallowed before he was able to speak. His body shivered as if he were cold.
“Em?”
“Yes,” I cried, letting my tears rain down on his face. A tidal wave of relief crashed over me.
“I found you.” Though his voice crackled, he sounded satisfied.
A memory filtered back from long ago. I promise I’ll come back. No matter what happens. His words just before he’d been drafted. Yes, he had come back. Despite the costs.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you from the beginning,” he said.
I shushed him. “Not important.”
“Yes it is.” He coughed, and when he did so, his whole body ripped into a spasm that had him curling around his stomach.
“Breathe. It’s okay,” I soothed, stroking his back. But knowing he was hurting ripped my heart wide open.
It took him a full minute to breathe evenly. When he finally lay back, his eyes were dazed with pain.
“Don’t talk,” I whispered. It took a minute, but he shoved himself up.
“I can fix this. I’m going to get you out.”
I froze, my hand still on his cheek.
“You … turned yourself in?” My voice hitched. “Why did you do that?”
“I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he said.
I knew what a promise meant to him. It was tearing him apart that he’d let my mother and me down.
“Sean’s waiting for you at a gas station in the Red Zone behind the base. He’ll help you.”
I knew the place. I’d seen its decrepit sign the first day I’d helped Delilah transport a body to the crematorium.
“Sean…” I looked at him quizzically. Sean and Chase had not been particularly fond of each other when I’d last seen them together.
“It’s on the western side. There’s an exit there. I’ll clear the gate for you and…”
“No.” I saw what he had envisioned: him fighting whomever it took to get me outside these gates. I could hardly breathe. He’d come here to rescue me knowing he was going to die.
My hands covered my mouth, and I collapsed on my knees beside the bed. So many feelings, all slamming together, all tearing through me. If I didn’t say it now, I wouldn’t be able to. My throat was already choking off.
“What happened … it’s not your fault,” I said, shaking.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry. That I forgave him. That I knew he loved me and that I loved him, too. I couldn’t. I fell apart, sobbing into my sleeves. His hands slipped around me, pulling me into his bruised body.
“You scared the hell out of me. I thought…” he sighed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re alive.”
A sound in the hallway extinguished my tears.
Cla-click, cla-click. Cla-click, cla-click.
The guard on rotation. Or Delilah, back from her gruesome task.
We froze, listening to the footsteps. They grew louder, then paused, just outside of Chase’s cell. I held my breath and watched the door.
A clatter against the outside wall. His chart. Someone was going to come in.
No!
Chase pushed me aside. In a laborious heave he stood, bracing against the wall for support. I jumped up behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest, half certain he was about to fall over, half ready to make the guards tear us apart.
“Lay down!” I whispered.
He didn’t listen. It was a good thing he was injured. I was stronger than him in his current condition. I shoved him back to the bed and pushed his head down. He looked like he might throw up. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered this as a symptom of concussion.
A key fit into the lock, turned.
“Keep your eyes closed!” I said quietly.
Chase complied, but his hands curled into fists.
Delilah entered the room.
“He’s not up yet?” I could see the little red dots that had splattered across her blouse and the damp stains on her collar from where she’d been sweating. I tried not to picture what she’d seen in cell two.
“He was a second ago,” I said, feeling the solid shape of the gun against my skin. “Come look at his face,” I added, gently running my finger over a split on the bridge of his nose.
Chase stirred, ever so slightly. I willed him to be still.
She took another step forward, one hand still on the door.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“He got hit pretty hard.”
“Obviously,” she snorted. One more step inside.
I sprung, throwing the blanket off my shoulders and shoving her away from the door. A second later I’d pulled the gun from my dress and aimed it directly at her. I pushed the door back toward the jamb, careful not to let it lock.
“What the hell are you doing?” she cried.
“Shut up!” I ordered, praying no one had heard us. Chase was sitting up now, blinking rapidly. He still looked ill—and more shocked than Delilah.
“Here.” I shoved the gun into his hand. He aimed it at Delilah. She bared her teeth at him. I saw his hand tremble slightly but knew it wasn’t from physical pain. The last woman he’d held a gun to had been my mother.
“Sorry, Delilah,” I told her as I shoved a clean rag into her mouth. “But there is something out there for me.”
As quickly as I could, I tore the tattered rags to strips and fastened her wrists around the metal bed frame. She didn’t struggle, clear eyes glued on Chase. I slipped the key over her head and pressed it firmly in my fist. My heart felt as if it were going to explode in my chest. If it did, I hoped it killed me before the MM did.
Then I eased Chase back to the bed, away from Delilah, and returned the gun to its hiding place in my dress.
“I must have gotten hit harder than I thought,” Chase said, with the confusion of someone waking from a coma. “How did you get in here? Who is she? And where did that gun come from?” The heels of his hands were pressed against his temples.
“I’ll explain later. For right now, stay here.”
“I’m going with you,” he said.
I shook my head. His jaw tightened.
Don’t fight me, Chase.
I knew he felt as I had so many times on this journey. Completely out of control. Completely reliant. Maybe he realized how I felt now, too, because he didn’t argue, he didn’t fight. He just looked up at me and whispered, “Please be careful.”
A moment later the door locked behind me.
The hallway was eerily quiet, without even the shuffle of the guard around the far corner at the stairs. He was there, I knew, just silent. The guard on rotation would be coming around any second.
Nerves chewed my insides and made my skin tingle. Every step I took felt like walking on a bed of nails. I figured I was losing my mind. It was the only reasonable explanation for my actions.
Before anything else, I grabbed the clipboard outside Chase’s cell. I ripped the pen from its hanging cord and in large letters scribbled what had been written on the other soldiers’ charts.
COMPLETE.
One steadying breath, to find that emotionless calm from before Chase had come, and I returned to my task.
I used Delilah’s key to open the storage room and rolled a cart into the hallway. One of the wheels rattled and flicked awkwardly to the side. I stared furiously at the defective piece, as though this would somehow silence it.
I had just reached Chase’s cell when I heard the clicking of footsteps again.
My body became paralyzed.
A guard with dark skin and a permanent frown came around the corner.
“Good morning,” I said too cheerily.
“What are you doing out?” He looked down the empty hallway.
“Delilah … she came early,” I stammered.
“Where is she?”
&
nbsp; “Still cleaning up the suicide in cell two. She told me to wait here.”
“Why here?”
Several swear words tore through my brain.
“To take out the trash,” I answered, quoting Delilah.
The soldier looked at Chase’s chart. His furrowed brows smoothed.
“I guess they blew off the trial. Figures. He didn’t deserve one.”
“Oh no?” Please just leave!
“No. There are bad people in the world. He’s one of them.” He said this as though he were a father talking to his daughter about stranger danger. I thought about where I would shoot him if I pulled the gun.
I tried to look frightened. “Well, I’d better get to it.”
He turned on his heels without another word and did not look back.
Only thirty minutes until the next rotation.
My hands shook so hard I could barely fit the key in the lock. The doubt clawed at me, but I shoved it aside. I would not let Chase down.
I reopened his cell. He was standing inside, the stress still evident through his swollen features. I was careful to make sure the lock did not click behind me. Delilah’s cheeks were stained red with fury.
“Who was that?” Chase whispered.
“Just a guard.” I positioned the cart against the wall. “Get in.”
As I explained the plan, his countenance grew grim.
“And if you get caught? I can’t live with that.”
“You won’t have to for long,” I said morosely, glancing at Delilah, still bound and gagged. The guilt made my stomach burn. “It’s both of us or neither of us.”
His hand scratched through his hair.
“Don’t you see?” I argued. “We have to do something! So this doesn’t happen to anyone else!” He knew what I meant by this. What had happened to my mother. To us.
He swallowed. And very slowly nodded.
We were going to try to escape an MM base.
I didn’t think about it too long. If I did, the impossibility of it would overwhelm me.
I had to help Chase. He had difficulty bending; I suspected a few ribs may have been broken. He sat on the bottom of the cart, his knees pulled to his chest, his head locked down.
“If I hear things go south, I won’t stay hidden.”
I didn’t say anything and closed the lid over his head. One final nod to Delilah was all the time we could afford.
I shoved my shoulder into the cart, rocking it with effort until it rolled into the empty hallway. Every sense vigilant, I made for the elevator. I could hear my heart slamming in my eardrums and the screaming rattle of that stupid wheel as my trembling finger pressed the button. The freight elevator doors made a loud clanging noise as they opened. Did they always do that? I scanned the hallway. Still nothing.
Leaning into the cart, I pushed Chase inside.
The gears of the metal box squealed, then ground us inch by inch to the bottom floor. It took several steadying breaths to regain my focus.
The doors pulled open, revealing the dark, floor-level corridor where I had originally planned on leaving Delilah. Since this part of the building was not often used, the standardized power did not automatically kick on the lights here. I didn’t, either. I held my breath in the darkness, ignoring the frightening sounds and shapes I created in my mind, and took an immediate right. The utility door unlocked easily with my key. When the first breath of fresh air hit me, I felt renewed.
Yes. I could do this. I was doing this.
I had to plant my heels into the asphalt to push the cart down the narrow alley. Twenty more yards to the gate station. Fifteen. Ten.
The guard at post stuck his head outside.
No! Ignore me! That’s what you did yesterday!
“Where’s the old lady?” he asked. He had a chubby face and a dimple in the center of his chin.
“Sick, I think,” I responded. I prayed no one had found her yet.
“That old bat’s never sick.”
I shrugged.
“Early this morning for that, isn’t it?”
“They did it last night.” Please let me pass. Please let me pass.
He pressed the button, and the gate buzzed before dragging open.
We passed through. My heart was racing. I rounded the corner and began straining up the hill. I had to keep my arms locked straight on the handlebar so that I wouldn’t topple backward.
“We did it,” I whispered giddily between labored breaths. I knew he couldn’t hear me. That was okay. He would know soon enough.
Step after step I pushed him up the hill.
Finally we reached the top. I pulled the cart off into a hidden area beside the awning and checked the driveway and hilltop for movement. We were alone.
The metal cover fell open with a clang, and Chase lifted his head.
“We did it!” I stifled a scream this time.
He didn’t smile until he’d seen for himself that the driveway was clear. After he was out, we pushed the cart over to the drop-off area at the crematorium. Behind the building was a wooded slope, which led to the subdivision and the gas station. This was where we would disappear.
“Come on.” Chase grabbed my hand.
But the skin on my neck prickled. Boots clacked across the pavement.
I spun around, my heart already leaping into my throat.
Tucker Morris was jogging up the hill, alone. It was too late to run, he had already seen us. He stopped three yards away, hands on his belt. His eyes were focused behind me, on Chase.
“So it’s true.” His voice was filled with both trepidation and disgust. “A soldier in sick bay told me you turned yourself in last night. I had to see for myself.” He laughed wryly. “The chart on the door said ‘Jennings,’ but she sure didn’t look like you.”
Delilah. “Did anyone else see her?” I asked, flattening the apprehension in my voice.
“Not yet,” he threatened.
It struck me as odd that Tucker hadn’t alerted the entire base to our escape, but then I realized he would likely get in trouble for it. He was trying to fix a mistake on his shift before his command found out what had happened.
Chase was still silent. Somehow, he’d placed himself between Tucker and me.
“You look surprised,” Tucker said to him. “You didn’t tell him I was here, Ember?” He used my first name just to get under Chase’s skin. He’d never called me that before.
“Don’t talk to her,” Chase growled. “Don’t even look at her.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll finish what I started and break your other arm.”
My pulse quickened.
“You can barely stand,” scoffed Tucker. But there was a cautious light in his eye.
“So it’ll be an even fight.”
“We’re leaving,” I told Tucker flatly.
“The hell you are.”
I felt my eyes twitch. Chase took a step forward, intending to make good on his threat. I grabbed his arm.
Tucker’s tone turned from vehemence to conceit.
“Have you told him yet? About how you gave it up in my office last night?” Tucker began walking purposefully toward us.
“Nothing happened.”
He grinned. “If I’d known you were that wild I’d have busted you out of reform school, too.”
“Go,” Chase told me under his breath.
“Not a chance,” I told him fiercely.
Tucker was still approaching. I knew if we turned our backs to him he’d reach for the radio at his belt and call for assistance. I couldn’t let that happen.
Chase was leaning forward, ready to pounce. Before I took another step, Tucker whipped the baton from his hip and lunged at us. Chase moved to intercept, but there was no need: Tucker’s advance had been cut short. He was frozen, the nightstick suspended over his shoulder. Surprised by the interruption, Chase glanced back at me. His eyes changed slightly when he registered the gun in my hands.
“You stole my weapon?�
�� He seemed genuinely surprised for a brief moment—but then his bravado returned. “You’ve really screwed yourself now.”
The gun was light as a feather in my hands. The rush was kicking through my system. I’d aimed the gun at Delilah but never considered actually shooting her. I thought if Tucker took another step forward I might just pull the trigger.
“Tucker, please let us go.” My words were icy.
“Begging?” He spat on the ground. “You sound like your mother did. Right before I shot her.”
My world stopped.
Tucker’s words sliced through my brain. Again and again.
Right before I shot her.
“You?” I asked weakly. I had assumed it was the CO that had killed her, but I was wrong. It was Tucker. That was why Chase had broken his arm. That was why Tucker had been promoted. I felt like I was going to be ill.
My blood was running cold. My mother’s killer was faceless no longer. I could see him holding the gun up, just behind Chase. See him shooting her.
“I thought you told her,” Tucker said to Chase. Chase said nothing.
“You killed her,” I said softly. My hands were wobbling.
“Ember.” I barely registered Chase saying my name.
“How could you?” Tucker was an inconceivable monster.
“I’m a damn good soldier. I did what needed to be done.”
His words hit me like a freight train.
“What needed to be done?” I repeated. The murder of an innocent woman was now necessary?
I focused on the gun. I would show him what needed to be done.
“Like you even know what to do with that,” mocked Tucker.
I glanced down, flicking the safety off.
“It’s a nine millimeter, isn’t it? I just pull back the slide, aim, and fire.”
With a steady hand I chambered the first round. Click.
Tucker faltered, his face blotching with crimson, his mouth hard and set. I couldn’t stop the images. Tucker lifting the weapon. The sound the gun must have made when it fired. The fear in her eyes. The death in her eyes.
“Em,” Chase whispered. I barely heard him.
I saw her. I saw her mischievous smile. The clips in her hair. She sang songs from back before the War, and we danced in the living room. She made me hot chocolate. She gave away her space in line at the soup kitchen.
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